Page 111 of Yes No Maybe

Her lips torpedo mine before another word comes out. And holy shit—it’s a desperate, smiling kiss that makes me want to ravish her right here on the table. Her tongue slides against mine like a curled finger saying, ‘Come here.’ She grips my bare cheeks and does to my mouth what I hope she does to the rest of me—explore, play, love. I fist the collar of the hoodie, dragging her closer. Every nerve in my body twitches with energy like her lips are a pleasure epicenter, switching me on.

Until I have to stop. “First best thing to happen to me today.” I’m breathless this time.

“That may be the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me.”

“Not too romantic for you?”

“Well, you can’t buy half the restaurant’s dinners every time we go out.”

“Why not? We’ll change the world, one dinner at a time.”

She stays close to me, giggling at the idea. But slowly, her eyes pinch together like she’s working out a math problem. “It’s strange… this has actually happened to me before.”

“What? Amazing kisses? I should hope so. You’re really good at it.”

Confusion edges out her soft smile. “No, a stranger paying for my dinner. On a very bad night for me. Weird, right?”

Good at playing dumb, I lean away, looking for our server. “Not really. Shit like that happens all the time.”

“No, it doesn’t, and definitely not to me.”

“Sir? Your bills?” The waitress edges the narrow notebook onto the table before boxing our leftover pizza. Under Rowan’s contemplative scrutiny, I scribble across the bills, glad for the distraction. It’s not a life-changing secret or anything, but I don’t know how she’ll take it, knowing I’ve kept something from her since day one.

As soon as I close the notebook, she gets up to leave, and I follow her lead. On our way out, the middle-aged couple eyes us critically as we pass.

Rowan plasters on her best fake smile. “Have a good night,” she tells them, earning a devious grin from me. She hooks her arm in mine as we exit the building.

“What now?”

“Home.”

There’s no tone in her voice, but I’m disappointed and a little worried that her wheels are still turning over that night two years ago when she got a free meal, and I nailed my final scene forThe Other Us.

Once home, I help her hobble to her front door, under watchful eyes. Shadows move in Rose and Vernon’s window, and Tom sits on his front porch, facts that seem to annoy her as she glances from them to me.

Under the soft porch light, she faces me. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You felt sorry for me?”

“That asshole treated you like shit—of course, I felt sorry for you. But I was drawn to you before that.”

“Why? My face?”

“First, your legs.” I step closer, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep them off her. “You have the sexiest legs I’ve ever seen. Your poise held my attention, too—with your dark hair and your little green dress. After the asshole, I admired your confidence. You stayed for a good meal—that alone should’ve earned you a free one. And better wine. Your soulful eyes drew me in next—they’re so blue and beautiful. Then, I saw your scars, but for me, they were a footnote to a much better story… and still are. I’ve never had a better day than this one.”

She gnaws at her bottom lip, and I fear I’ve messed up. Again. Worse, she digs out her keys and then extends her hand, looking pensive. “Thank you for a nice time.”

A fucking handshake—I can’t believe it.

As my heart damn near breaks and our hands rise and fall in business-like formality, she glances at the street before her eyes return to mine.

A smirk perks on her mouth. “Meet me at the back door in five minutes.”

I’m there in three.

Thirty-Seven

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